The Wrong Crowd
by Cutesy Lolita Elizabeth
Summary: Ronald Knox wasn't a troublemaker. He was a good kid who hardly did anything wrong, and when he did, it wasn't anything serious. He had a reputation for that. But a wrong slip can really mess up your reputation and lead you down a path you'll regret.
1. Prelude

**This whole first-chapter space will be dedicated to this entry here. Yes, it's kind of important and will give you a bit of an understanding on the foundation upon which I built all the ideas in this story. However, reading it isn't necessary. It's just an analysis of the headcanons that will be used.**

**Firstly, I have a headcanon that grim reapers are those who committed suicide in life. In the anime and manga both, the reapers have only reaped souls from those who have died from events other than suicide. I have doubts that in that scenario, their names wouldn't show up on the To-Die List, and therefore their souls would not be reaped. The idea that they wouldn't show up on the To-Die List struck me when I was pondering the headcanon of reapers being those who had taken their own lives, which I hadn't placed much of an explanation on at the time—the idea of someone going about committing suicide, the act of taking their lives before what I would imagine to be the time that they're meant to die, being an event that could be tracked by the List doesn't seem very likely to me.**

**Secondly, Ronnie is my favorite out of the reapers, and one of my favorite characters in the anime/manga, so he gets to go first. Now, mind you, he most certainly _can't_ have the same personality as he does as a reaper, as that would be terribly implausible—so I'm going to change it up a bit. Ronald is depicted as cheerful, energetic, and generally carefree, and if he had been the same way in life during the time soon before committing suicide, I don't think he would have committed suicide in the first place and instead would have lived a wonderful life.**

**But he's also depicted as an flexible-minded young man who seems to think a little bit farther ahead of his time, and who can also be responsible and hardworking when it's necessary. These trait _are_ going to remain the same. I see him as the type who, despite the views of the people in the times he lives in, would be very open to the ideas of gender equality, homo/bi/pan/asexuality, transsexualism, and so forth. No, not because I think he should agree with my views on that stuff, but because he's depicted as someone with a very flexible and open mind. Because of this, he would be considered "weird," "unique," and "strange" by his peers, and in life, I can imagine this making him an outcast—and that's actually the point that will be fueling the plot.  
**

**Thank you very much for reading this, if you did. If you didn't, well, maybe you _should_ read it... Or don't, I guess, everything in the story will still fall into place, you just probably won't understand why I personally feel like it all fits into place.  
**

**Anyway~ Enjoy, if you can~**


	2. The Slip-Up

**Author's Note: So...I guess Ronnie's like somewhere in his teens? Idk, but that'll have to do.**

**I suppose it's also important to mention that I won't be using old English words, especially not insults, because I really can't take most of them seriously. And with the way they talk—the best I'll do you for is the most natural way it is for me to word things, which seems to be somewhat comparable to the speech and wording in the few 19th-century English novels I've begun and failed to finish.**

**And, without further ado, I shall now get on with this.**

* * *

"Why don't you give us your lunch, Madeleine?"

"Yeah, women don't belong anywhere aside from in the classroom teaching or in the kitchen cooking for a man."

"We're even willing to spare you a knock on the head if you don't try to refuse."

Ronald Knox sat at the back of the classroom, watching and listening to three of his classmates harass Madeleine purely because of her gender. Most of the males in his class had no respect for females,—save for him—and how they felt it was acceptable to treat women was revolting and made him sick. Although his parents told him just to ignore it, "because that's just how things are," but that wasn't something he could do. The way things _were_ weren't how they _should_ be. That actually applied to several topics. Women were equal to men; someone who liked the same gender should be free to be open about it without having any consequences for it; if someone wanted to dress up and act like the opposite gender than it was okay and people should really accept it because something like that was a huge part of who someone was—so why did he have to be the only one who could see that?

"Please stop!" Madeleine's cries jerked Ronald out of his thoughts. "I made this for myself! I'm begging you, let me keep it! I don't get to eat again until supper...!"

"So now you're being selfish? Didn't your father and mother teach you any manners?"

A gentleman wasn't meant to be impulsive. A gentleman wasn't meant to make trouble. A gentleman wasn't meant to start fights. The fact that he had had that drilled into his head didn't matter now—the treatment of Madeleine over her gender and not personality wasn't something he could tolerate.

His pale hands tightened into fists and his baby blue eyes narrowed angrily. He got up, and, grabbing his own lunch, went straight up to the people tormenting poor Madeleine.

"What do you want, Knox?" one of the boys—Alexander—challenged.

Unfazed, Ronald looked up—yes, up, since he was one of the shorter boys in his class—at him. "I want you to leave her alone."

"She's just a stupid woman," one of the other boys—Derrick—said. "What's the use in making her think she has any more value than she ever can?"

Now, mind you, Ronald had been well-disciplined from a very young age, so he wasn't one to act out. This, however, made him unfathomably angry, and he couldn't keep himself from doing _something_, and so he acted on that before even processing his own thoughts. Heck, he wasn't even able to process that he was furious before he felt a flash of pain in his knuckles, and to everyone's surprise,—including his own—he had actually _hit_ the guy.

Ronald "Goodie-Two Shoes" Knox. Ronald "Innocence Incarnate" Knox. Ronald "Pushover" Knox. Ronald "Pansy" Knox. He was certain that all the nicknames he had unwillingly acquired would all be dropped or replaced, along with the image of the Ronald Knox whom they believed to be incapable of stepping so far out of line.

But lo and behold, there he stood in front of Derrick, his hand in a tight fist with his knuckles turning a light shade of bright red and painfully throbbing. Derrick merely just stood there, looking nothing less than surprised as signs of bruising were already becoming visible.

Which all led to the events after school.

Rain was pouring down—of _course_ it was; Ronald lived in England, so of _course_ it was raining—as he walked home from school. His stomach hurt from not eating since breakfast, since he had given his lunch in the place of Madeleine's, but it was entirely worth it. Even if it hadn't been, though, it didn't compare to the aches and pains all over his body. He didn't consider himself to be physically very tough or strong, and he had been beaten pretty badly. He was sure he would find his chest, stomach, sides, and back covered in bruises when he eventually bothered to look. At this point, though, he was mostly just concerned about his parents finding out about it. Oh, what they would do if they found out he had started a fight,—or rather provoked three guys into beating him up—and how much worse it would make things if they found out why...

Lost in thought, as he usually was,—his problem with that had begun five years prior, but that's going into a completely different topic—he ran into someone.

"I apologize for that, sorry," he said quickly.

"It's all right," the person who he had run into—a classmate of his who he believed was names Thomas—said. "I saw everything that happened this morning, between you and Derrick."

"I was protecting rights I believe women should have." It was a simpler answer than he usually would have given, but he didn't want any more arguments or pain. He had gotten what typically should have been two weeks' worth just that day, and he was exhausted.

"Either you're terribly courageous or terribly foolish, I can't quite tell which. Whatever you may be, I never would have guessed it was in you to act out, and most certainly not like that."

"Truthfully, neither did I." The false cheerfulness that Ronald typically tried to force into his voice had faded and was now entirely nonexistent. His voice was left with a dull and tired tone, with a touch of irritation. He wanted nothing more to be finished—finished with what had happened that day, finished with other people, and, now more than ever, finished with life. But, unfortunately for him, that currently seemed fare from likely. "Is there any particular reason you've struck up a conversation with me?"

Thomas nodded. "Yes, of course. You've had at least a taste of alcohol, haven't you?"

"I'm allowed a little bit on holidays, but that's all."

"And what is your opinion on it?"

"It's all distasteful, aside from wine. This talk aside for now, you haven't answered my question. So I'll ask you again—why have you struck up a conversation with me?"

"Patience, patience, I'm getting to that."

"But idly discussing alcohol is more important?"

"No, although knowing your opinion on alcohol _was_ important." Thomas pulled a folded slip of paper from his pocket and held it out to Ronald. "I'd prefer not to risk anyone overhearing an explanation, so I've written it out. Read this later, and don't let anyone see it."

The blond hesitantly accepted the note and pocketed it. "Is that all?"

"Yes, that's it. Anyway, I have to be home early today, but I will be seeing you tomorrow."

With that, Thomas was gone, leaving Ronald vaguely confused.

_Oh well..._ he thought, continuing on his way. He was soaked, it was cold, and there was no point in standing around idly, but he was in no rush to get home. Once he walked in the front door, he would have to suck up every bit of pain from each blow he had received earlier so as to keep his parents and little sister from getting suspicious about it. And, on top of that, he would need to fake a smile and a happy attitude, and he wasn't sure he had enough strength to do that just yet.

But he couldn't stand around, so he took a deep breath and hoped he would be able to act as well and as long as he would need to.

* * *

**Author's Note: That's just disappointing, isn't it? Or maybe I'm the only one disappointed... This was meant to be so much more depressing than it is. *sighs* Oh, well, that's what I get for playing _World of Warcraft_ and listening to "LIBERTY PARTY" for three hours before starting this. Fortunately, it can only go downhill from here~! So please do follow so you'll get the next chapter emailed to you when I post it! ^-^**


	3. The Offer

**Author's Note: Well~ Heavy emo metal certainly is a very worthy source of inspiration for something like this, don't you think? Ah...things will be getting much worse from here!**

**Also, I suppose I'm going with eight years old or so being little Thelma's ago.**

* * *

Ronald had been standing right outside his house for ten minutes. He didn't want to go inside. He didn't want to face his family. He didn't want to be paranoid. He didn't want there to be any issues. Things were already horrid for him, and anyone catching on to _anything_ would make it worse, he was sure.

Finally being able to summon up the strength to smile as if he didn't have a care in the world and the day had been smooth and perfect, Ronald did so. How far from the truth that was hurt enough to make him wish to die right then and there. But to think every one of his smiles that he faked brought a bit more light into the days of his little sister and parents, no matter if they were having a bad day or a good one, made him regret every suicidal thought he ever had—only leading to more self-loathing in the end, unfortunately. Still, he could pull this off for another day if that meant keeping everyone happy.

He threw the door open and kicked it back closed with the sole of his foot. "I apologize for taking so long to get home! One of my classmates stopped me, and I didn't realize how long I had spoken with him until I started on my way home. I'm very sorry."

"I was beginning to worry about you, Ronnie!" Thelma, his sister, ran up to him and squeezed him. It was all he could do not to wince at the tight hold she had on his battered body. "I wanted to go out looking for you, but Mother wouldn't let me!"

Ronald ran his hand through her hair. "There's no reason to be worrying about me. I can take care of myself. Besides, you're not in any condition to be outside, anyway, so you couldn't have looked for me anyway."

Since she was very young, Thelma had had a terrible illness, which prevented her from doing most things girls her age did, and even more than that, prevented her from being able to even go outside. Getting her too worked up had a chance of killing her, or so he had been told. Still, she had grown up strong-willed as any man, and she refused to have any of anything she strongly disagreed with, so she glared up at her older brother for what he had said. "Dummy! You're my brother, and I would have broken the rules if you had taken much longer!"

He sighed. There was no winning when she got like that, so he left it at that. "Yes, well, I've come home safely, so worrying does no good anymore. Would you please let go of me now? I'm a bit tired, so I want to rest before supper is ready. And be sure to tell Mother that I've arrived so she doesn't start to panic like she usually does."

"All right!" She giggled and let him go, then raced off in the direction of the room where all her toys were kept.

Sighing, Ronald trudged down the hallway. He didn't need life right now. Once he was in his room, he closed the door and jammed the back of his desk chair under the doorknob to make sure everyone stayed out. He collapsed face-first onto his bed. Life needed to stop being so difficult, because he wasn't sure how much more of it he could take.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, but he decided that it had been a long while when he rolled onto his back and sat up. He still had to read the note Thomas gave him. Well, he didn't _have_ to, but he decided that he probably should. So he pulled the slip of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and read the neat and tidy scrawl.

_I don't think I could have ever even guessed you were one to take chances. Aside from the typical ones, of course—all your belief in equality for anyone and everyone. Still, I never would have imagined you could ever break the rules like that. I never would have imagined you could ever strike someone. You decided to take quite the risk, and because of that, I'm sure your "perfect student" reputation isn't going to hold up any longer.  
_

_Now, surely you must think this is an attempt to break you down further from how this began, but continue reading—my intentions are quite the opposite of that._

_If you are unable to continue holding up that reputation, why not simply allow it to crumble away? After all, that's what would be the easiest, and something gone isn't worth trying to save. Instead, since you've worked up the nerve to take such a dangerous risk, I'm sure you can work up the nerve to make another. It isn't as bad as what you did to day, but it may come close, though I'm sure you'll thank me in the end. You can stop worrying about everything and begin seeing the world differently. So what do you say? I'm asking nothing of you aside from sworn secrecy, so do we have a deal?_

Honestly, Ronald would be lying if he said it didn't sound good, aside from two points.

Firstly, he never "worked up the nerve" to do anything. Striking Derrick was something he had _impulsively_ done _subconsciously_, while he was entirely blind to his own thoughts and even his own emotions. He would never willingly tarnish his reputation, and he had never meant to act out as he had. He was not a rule-breaker and he was not a fighter. He was an honest person,—aside from a few lies here and there, but considered those to be ones meant to protect others—so he would never even _try_ to give himself a reputation like that. That being said, he was also not one to take a risk like that, and therefore taking another wasn't something he was very comfortable with.

Secondly, why would it need to remain a secret if it was going to affect him positively? What chance was there of something going wrong, if it was considered a "risk"? How badly would his parents take this "thing"? Did it have a chance of ruining his life completely? Was he not supposed to consider these questions, or any at all, for that matter?

After a while of thinking, he decided that he was going to give it a shot. After all, it wasn't as if he had any better options, and if this could help, then he should at least try it once. So he sat down on his knees in front of his desk, grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen, and began scrawling out his response to give to Thomas in the morning.

_I've thought about your offer for a while, and I'm willing to accept. Anything that is required, I'm under the impression that it could be very well worth it. I just ask you alter the schedule so my mother and sister don't worry about my safety, if it currently would._

He folded up the paper, hid it under his pillow, moved the chair away from the door, and laid down in bed. Surely his mother would be all right with him going to bed early—he could just use the excuse that he was tired or that he had a migraine. So he pulled his blankets over his head and closed his eyes, but it was a long while before he was actually able to fall asleep.

* * *

**Author's Note: asdfghjkl Ronnie, you stupid idiot, the "thing" is obvious.**

**I'm already trying to decide who goes next, to be honest—William or Grell. I think Grell, though, to a friend of mine who almost killed himself for the same reason...**


End file.
